


Hold Up

by steggyisimmortal



Series: Shield and Gun [20]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Everyone loves Steve, First POV, Gen, Stalker fic, some a little too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-10 04:58:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13495402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steggyisimmortal/pseuds/steggyisimmortal
Summary: They might be beautiful – the girls on the street, the redhead, the brunette.  They might fawn over your every word and the way you look but they don’t love you like I love you.





	Hold Up

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the line: _"They don’t love you like I love you."_

Men have always been attracted to me.  I guess it's something of a curse but mama always said looks were all men cared about.  I had to keep myself looking pretty so I could find a husband.  My hair always has to be clean and styled.  My nails have to be painted and long – not too long to look like a lady of the night but not short enough that it looks like I chew on them.  My clothes always have to match and I always have to wear high heels.  Mama always called me a skinny chicken when I was growing up.  I didn’t fill out till high school but once I did I was practically beatin’ ‘em off with a stick.

 

I guess that's why I'm so surprised you haven't noticed me yet. 

 

Everyone notices me.  People whisper and stare.  I always hear them.  They think I can't hear them telling their friends how beautiful I look.  I just smile and play dumb when I walk past them.

 

I first saw you about six months ago near the park.  You looked so lost, like a puppy dog who had wandered too far from home.  You kept looking at everything like it was brand new.  I thought you were a tourist but when I followed you, you went into a large apartment building.  I memorized your face and prayed I'd see you again.

 

I musta done something good because I saw you a few days later near the same spot.  You looked sweaty, like you'd been exercising.  It was a good look for you.  I made a note of the time and sure enough the next day there you were.

 

I dressed up this time in my best dress with a hemline that would make mama’s eyes bust out of the sockets but I didn’t care.  I had to get you to notice me.

 

But still you didn't see me.

 

Or if you did you did an excellent job of hiding it.

 

I decided I just had to try harder.

 

I switched to part time at my job so I could increase my efforts.  It wasn't easy following you.  No matter what I did I couldn't gain access to that apartment building you always went into.  For such a shabby looking building, the security is better than the bank.

 

You follow a routine, though.  Jogging in the park on Monday’s and Tuesday’s.  Shopping at the market on the corner on Wednesday’s.  You always leave with such a massive amount of food I don't know why you go back every week.  On Thursday’s you go to a gym on the lower east side.  You meet a woman there and the two of you spend an hour weight training.  I can’t figure out why such a small woman spots you but I want to scratch her eyes out for touching you so I don't spend too long thinking about it.  I just wish it were me instead of her.  Friday through Sunday it’s like you disappear off the map but Monday morning you're always back in the park. 

 

You’re devastatingly handsome in the way that mama always warned me about.  Although, how am I supposed to find a husband if I’m supposed to avoid the cute ones like you?  That never made sense to me so I push mama’s voice to the back of my mind.

 

You’re perfect for me.  I can just tell.  You look like you love parties.  We’d look picture perfect dressed up together.  You’d tell all the right jokes because I can tell you’re funny and I’d laugh in all the right places. We’d stay away from museums but go to those fancy art openings just like the rich and posh do.  We’d meet all the right people and our charm would get us invited to every social event in the city.

 

But first I have to make sure you notice only me.

 

Women always notice you.  I’m sure it’s a curse for you like it is me.  I know you probably have your fun with them but you never flaunt it in my face. You smile at them politely and wave them off but I know you meet them someplace later. 

 

I can’t stand them – with their bleach blond hair, fake tits, skin tight clothes so you notice all their curves, long bronze legs, and fake smiles.  None of them are right for you.

 

You seem to know that because you always look uncomfortable when they pay attention to you.  I think it’s cute you pretend for me. I know I have your heart but it’s nice to see your effort.

 

You don’t have many women in your life aside from me. 

 

I know you’re hiding something from me, though.

 

Your routine changed. 

 

I’m worried about the woman from the gym.  The redheaded one.  The two of you are spending a lot more time together lately.  It seems like it’s mostly fitness related – she’s been taking walks with you around the city and she joined you jogging a few times.  She didn’t last long though.  You don’t laugh much when you’re with her but you look like you hang on her every word.  I don’t know how to feel about that. 

 

The one I’m most worried about is the brunette.  She’s new.  She’s only been around for a couple weeks but when I see you with her you never leave her side. 

 

I hate to say it but she’s gorgeous.

 

She has the kind of hair I’ve always dreamed of – long wavy brown locks dance around her shoulders.  I bet she can do any hairstyle and it looks flawless.  Her eyes are equally demanding.  Their piercing stare is enough to make ME hot and bothered when she turns them on you.  She walks with a confidence I wish I had.  Every step looks so carefully measured.  I’ve never seen a shade of red lipstick like hers.  I’m sure it has a fancy name but me, I can only afford the stuff they sell at the drug store.

 

I want to be her.

 

Not for the way she looks - well not just that – but because of the way _you_ look at _her_.

 

Absolutely head over heels in love.

 

I’m jealous. 

 

I thought what we had was special.  Is my hair not blond enough?  Do you want me to be a brunette like her?  Are my heels not high enough?  Are my legs not long enough?  Are my tits not big enough?  Do I not have enough curves? 

 

How could you do this to me?  Can’t you see how much I love you?  How much I want to be with you?  How could you treat me like this?  How can you flaunt her in front of me like my feelings don’t even matter? 

 

Can’t you see we’re made for each other?

 

They might be beautiful – the girls on the street, the redhead, the brunette.  They might fawn over your every word and the way you look but they don’t love you like I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like in today's society, Steve probably would have more than his fair share of women turning their heads to get a better look at him. Some women, and men, would probably take it a little too far. After he's brought into the 21st century, his name has already been thrown around as being a hero for close to 70 years. Meeting the legend in the flesh is sure to catch him a lot of attention.


End file.
